


Picking Up the Pieces

by SocialMoth



Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Closure, Gen, Graduation, Interstellar Academy, Light Angst, Post-Movie, Reunion, it takes place before the very end which is in the future anyway, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialMoth/pseuds/SocialMoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh from the Interstellar Academy, Jim encounters his father after so many years apart. It's not a happy reunion for either of them.</p><p>--</p><p>This work is my intellectual property. I do not give you or anyone else permission to offer my works for download.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking Up the Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Written: Summer 2007.
> 
> Sooooo I did a bad thing and rewrote this (I don't mean I merely edited; I mean I REWROTE IT even if I was copying verbatim) even though I swore I never would no matter how much I grew to cringe at the original text because fewijaofejwf it already came out perfect the first time, gorramit.
> 
> Because I joined AO3. And I knew I wanted this up on here. So my hand was forced to a little spring cleaning.
> 
> Those of you who've already read this on my FFN and DevART: I've added a few little things. I hope it enriches the experience (y'know, like a director's cut that only adds about eight seconds?) rather than take away from it -- I hope the end result is the same. I'm pleased for the moment, at least.
> 
> Newcomers: Welcome to my head. I hope you enjoy your stay. :)
> 
> \--
> 
> This work is my intellectual property. I do not give you or anyone else permission to offer my works for download.

_**"Yehr father's not the teachin' sort?"** _

_Jim's name rang out from the head of the room. Amidst enthusiastic applause, Jim climbed the steps onto the stage, walking up to the podium. The Interstellar Academy headmaster handed him his diploma, a creamy white parchment rolled up neatly with gold satin ribbon; and shook his hand._

_**"No. He was more the taking-off-and-never-coming-back sort."** _

_As he forded his way to a new seat with the other graduates, Jim scanned the vast, multi-species audience in the stands. He knew his mother couldn't be there; she had explained so in her last letter to him. Still, he imagined her there, how she might be dressed, and the look on her face. There was no hesitation in placing a beaming smile, eyes fixed solely on him. Clapping loudest off all for him. Immensely proud of her boy._

_The crowd noise settled down to a hum of anticipation for the next name announced. Mom would still be looking at him. Grinning to himself, Jim relaxed into his seat, diploma held carefully between his hands like fine treasure._

_**"No big deal; I'm doin' just fine."** _

* * *

Post-graduation festivities amounted to ale and fireworks at the riverside; not quite Jim's cup of tea. He feigned complete boredom and returned to his dorm; more to the point he wanted to pack up the rest of his things and get a decent night of sleep before he left early that morning for home. His canid roommate for the past four years, Chris, was already there. He stretched full-length on his bed reading a magazine, bare padded toes flexing thoughtfully. Jim tilted his head to see what the magazine was, but the title was in a language he couldn't read. Probably something to do with architecture, if the bridge splayed across the front cover was anything to go by; Chris was studying to be an engineer.

"Hey, Hawkins!" Chris yipped from the bed, placing the open magazine down across his stomach. He lifted an eyebrow, "Is the party really that boring?" Jim shrugged, chuckling appreciatively at his roommate's good humor.

"I don't know; I didn't stay."

"Why?" The dark-colored canid watched Jim rummage for his suitcase under his bed in lieu of an answer. "I thought you were done packing?"

"Not quite. That's why I came back." At last he unceremoniously shed his cap and graduation gown, dropping them on the bed. In just the black slacks and T-shirt he'd worn underneath, he swept through the room gathering the last of his belongings together and dumping them on the bed around the suitcase. He would organize them once he had everything in front of him. Chris watched in a state of very mild interest for a short time, then returned to his magazine. "What is that, anyway?" Jim asked as he began actually packing, for want of filling the silence than anything else. Chris shrugged, too absorbed in whatever the foreign alphabet had to say. Shrugging in kind, Jim said nothing about it.

"Think your mom's gonna throw you a party when you get home?" Chris began several minutes later, "I know mine will. When I do graduate." Anyone who declared an engineering major unavoidably signed away five years of their life to the Academy; no ifs, ands, or buts. The canid still lounging on his bed would need a new roommate next semester. Jim reflected on his question a moment before replying. He did not want to assume anything.

"Probably. I think. Business has been a lot better at the Inn since it reopened." Indeed, the Benbow Inn was much bigger, with more floors and more spacious rooms and more modern accommodations. It stood leaps ahead of the original building inherited from Jim's grandparents. "Mom might splurge on an occasion like this," he continued more to himself, thinking out loud. Honestly, he would understand and still be pleased if only a specially baked cake greeted him. After folding the rest of his clothes and pressing odds and ends in between, Jim triumphantly zipped the suitcase shut.

"So, was there _any_ life to the party before you left it?" Chris asked. It was Jim's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I just know there was going to be ale and music. So if that's your thing all of a sudden..." He smirked when Chris seemed to come to attention. Of course that was one of Chris's things. The canid often joked that all engineers were driven to drink away their stresses at one point or another. "I don't think you're technically allowed if you didn't graduate, though." And just as quickly the air puffed out and Chris settled against his pillows again.

"Fine, then; I'm staying in." He flipped a page in the magazine. "What time are you taking off, tomorrow?" He watched as Jim rummaged through one of the front pockets of his suitcase, looking for his boarding passes. He dug them out and checked the miniscule print; he already knew all the information by rote so this was more for Chris's benefit.

"The ferry leaves at nine, so... I'm thinking somewhere between half-seven and eight. You?"

Chris shrugged again. "My ship doesn't leave until after ten. But I'll go with you to the port, if you want some company." Jim nodded in agreement, putting the passes safely away and hefting the suitcase onto the floor by his bed. He looked at the clock; it was getting late. The graduation ceremony had taken forever and a day to end. Without even changing his clothes Jim fell onto the bed. After a moment of debating whether the room was warm enough, he wormed out the topmost layer of blanketing and pulled it over himself. Nestling facedown on his pillow, he reached and turned on a lamp for Chris to keep reading. Chris got the message and rose from the bed to turn off the overhead floodlight.

"Don't stay up too late if you're coming. You volunteered, and you don't get to complain about how tired you are."

"Got it. Good night, Hawkins." The room fell into partial light. Sleep tugged Jim's voice low.

"'Night." The lamp clicked off several minutes later, but Jim was already sound asleep.

* * *

Despite the early hour, the port was busy, buzzing with the usual traffic and Academy students and alumni scrambling to and fro, checking in for their flights and saying farewell to parents and friends. Jim and Chris carefully edged themselves and their suitcases around and between tearful goodbyes and tender moments, checking in successfully and milling in front of a small cafe near Jim's gate to pass the time. The meanwhile passed with very little event, and Chris waved with a feeble smile as he watched Jim board the ferry. Who knew when they might see each other again; they had been roommates for the past four years but they had never tried to meet up outside of school. It made Jim feel a little sad; he wondered if it might be too late to start. He watched Chris, left alone down on the port, slowly make his way back into the crowds with his hands in his pockets.

They'd meet up again. Jim shook it off and turned himself to searching the compartments for an available seat. But then he passed one occupied by a mouse-like girl named Sophie, also a new graduate. The two had been friends since their third year at the Academy, when nobody else in their lab period wanted to partner with them. A little small for her species, and enthusiastically intelligent, the girl was actually quite cute. She offered a bright smile as Jim sat down across from her, absently scratching a round, pale grey ear. A strand of straight black hair had wrestled its way out of one of her pigtails and she tucked it behind that ear. "Hey, Jim," she greeted, black eyes dancing, "Are you heading home?" Jim nodded, already infected by her cheer and grinning himself. Sophie continued, "I'm gong to Veir for the summer. I hear the plant life there is quite extraordinary this time of year." She nudged her glasses further up her pointed nose and returned to the book she had been reading. "Are you still going to be the captain of your own ship, or are you closer to solid ground now?"

"Yeah," Jim said casually, letting the barb slide. All of Jim's friends at the Academy knew he most wanted to be a captain. Sophie was just the only one who got away with asking him multiple times, even teasing him about it. Again, she was very cute. "Still set on being a botanist?" Well, she was clearing off just to study plants, so...

"Mm-hmm," she answered anyway, making a note in the margins of her book, tongue between her teeth. "I don't know what specifically, though. Maybe I'll work with medicinal herbs, or algae. I'm actually going to Veir for an internship, so I hope I'll know for sure after this summer." She closed the book on her pencil and stored it in her messenger bag. Leaning back in her seat, she changed the subject into general conversation with the young man in front of her. Their topics flowed from other summer plans to what other planets they'd like to visit before they were old and wrinkly, and everything in between. The hours passed quickly, and neither of them noticed the first leg of their journey had ended until the ferry bumped to a halt, followed by the announcement over the intercom. Jim and Sophie departed the ferry side by side, checking in and passing through security in tandem.

Jim still had forty minutes before he needed to board the ship to the Montressor spaceport. Sophie had less than twenty before her ship to Veir left. She bid goodbye and good luck to Jim ("I'll send you a postcard!") and disappeared into the crowd. Left alone, Jim wandered into the narrow streets of the port town, tracking the road signs. Lomnus was a boring planet, being fairly small and therefore not taken to be much use other than what it had been to Jim for the past four years. For him and many others, Lomnus was merely a place to wait for the next ferry to come in; the residential population was actually dramatically small compared to how many people set foot and departed every day. It was really very depressing, if one thought about it too much.

Adding onto that, it was gloomy planet, with the sunlight shining pale blue through the dusty atmosphere. However, if one liked nothing more than nursing a pint of ale, it was not at all a bad place to be. So Jim thought; he'd never strayed far beyond the actual port and so he imagined the parts of the planet not for spacers to kill time might be quite cosmopolitan, maybe. The relevant bit here, though, was that he couldn't spit without hitting another pub, and sometimes things got violent in these pubs. It kept him on his toes. Fortunately he had only ever been dragged into one fight, and the bartender had broken that up before things got brutal. Jim had walked away with a dark and painful bruise across his ribs as a result; it taught him to avoid eye contact with anyone whose eyes glinted too brightly.

Exercising this due caution, Jim entered one of the bars. It had decent lighting filtering through the windows, even if the décor was rather shabby. The furniture was dark and scarred; the wallpaper greyed with age and the floor hadn't been swept recently. There were only a few other people inside, most of them fellow Academy students and alumni. A man who could have passed for a young Billy Bones hunched over his rum at the far end of the bar, occasionally bellowing short-lived tales to the bartender.

 _Thanks, Bill_ , Jim couldn't help thinking. If that old tortoise hadn't crashed his ship near the Benbow Inn... well, things wouldn't have turned out quite the same.

"ID?" the barkeep drawled, wiping out the inside of a tumbler with a dirty cloth. Jim was startled back into awareness of his surroundings, and he quickly recovered.

"I'm not having anything, thank you." When the older man's eyes did not lift from him, Jim nodded cooperatively and pulled a card out his thin wallet. After a moment of squinty examination, the barkeeper nodded and went on his way. As the terrapin called for another pint, Jim casually approached the bar and perched on a stool, covertly gazing around the floor. He supposed he could do as his fellow graduates were doing and celebrate with a half-pint or so, but he preferred to be clear-headed when dealing with boarding and flight attendants, thanks. Once he finally located a clock, Jim determined that he still had about half an hour before he would be off the planet. Another thoroughly _boring_ half-hour. Sighing in borderline frustration, Jim slid forward off the barstool, intending to pass the time elsewhere.

"Jim!" a male voice called from right of the entrance. He turned to see who had hailed him. Alex, a ginger-colored felinid who now was one semester from graduation, grinned at Jim from a half-occupied table. The two of them had met at the beginning of the year when Al lost his balance and tripped into Jim, sending two armfuls of books and notepads flying. As they had worked to sort out whose pen was whose, Alex hurriedly explained his embarrassing klutziness resulted from a congenital defect of his inner ear and he was terribly sorry that happened and please don't hold it against him if it happened again. Jim had smiled to himself and then said something that made Alex bust out laughing. In those quick moments of conversation, the two of them had clicked, and then Jim had the fine opportunity to learn that, for all his ungainliness, Al was _unbelievable_ on a solar surfer.

Jim waved to Alex and came closer to the table. The felinid gestured to the empty seat across the table, and Jim slid into it. "How're you doing, Al?" he said as he settled comfortably in the wooden chair. Alex shrugged and grinned.

"Same old. Enjoying your first day of freedom.?"  
  


Jim made a show of looking around the bar like he was seeing it for the first time, spreading his arms out. "I'm on the only planet that's more boring than Montressor. What do you think?" He said it light-heartedly – Montressor was _home_ , after all – but Alex's grin still faltered and he peered into his drink.

"I take it you are heading home, first?" Al said matter-of-factly after a moment, taking a sip of his ale. Jim nodded, folding his arms on the tabletop. "Not having a drink to celebrate? I overheard what you said to the barkeep, but come on--"

"Alex," Jim said carefully. The other person at the table, Alex's shy younger sister, looked between them with an expression of slight worry. Jim cast a swift smile her way to reassure her and she blushed. Al completely missed the exchange as he knocked back the rest of his drink. Jim's eyes wandered to the clock again. Twenty-five minutes left.

* * *

Only the barkeep noticed when a dark man in his late thirties sauntered into the bar. He brushed past the table on his left taken by two felinids and a human, continuing straight on to the taps.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked in his usual disinterested drawl, though he felt a touch nervous at the man's haunted features. The customer sidled onto the closest barstool, leaning his forearms on the countertop. He didn't even have to think.

"Pint of 'Pride," he said with the air of a man who always knows exactly what he wants. His order was carried out swiftly. "Start a tab," he added as an afterthought after taking a cursory sip of the red-gold drink placed in front of him. He maintained his perch on the stool, not looking around. Instead, he thought about where he might go next. The most recent work, on Cayoon, was too menial for him. He'd only been there for a month, doing pointlessly simple jobs for not enough money. He might have stayed otherwise; the planet's climate, so he heard, was not that bad for year-round manual labor. So now he was at a point of uncertainty in his life. Of course, he had had many of those in the past ten years or so, many of them deeper and darker than this. Good work was just difficult to find nowadays; it was only a matter of searching long enough and hard enough.

A sudden uproar at a table behind him drew his attention. The male felinid had just finished telling a funny story, and he was joining the other two in his mirth. But it was the human amongst them that caught and held his attention. The boy was young, but not so young that he seemed afflicted with the awkwardness of adolescence – tall, but filled out and not so gangly. Something about the profile of his nose and the way he tilted his head with a reckless smile nagged that he ought to be familiar. The man quietly finished his ale, shifting so he only observed the rowdy group out the corner of his eye. It occurred to him then and he didn't hear the barkeep's confirmation of another pint. Could it really be...? No. No, of course not. The boy wore an Interstellar Academy jacket. It wasn't possible in the least way that--

"Hawkins!" someone called jovially behind him, and the he turned in his seat to face the tall, lanky man approaching him. "Who would have thought I would ever find you here? What're you doing in the backend of nowhere, huh?"

"Thomas," the man called Hawkins acknowledged flatly. Thomas's rambunctious tone had no place in a bar as seedy as this one. The newcomer took the stool to his right, resting three of his elbows on the counter.

"Thought I recognized yah. How long has it been? I don't think I've seen your mug for close to six years, now."

The barkeep seemed to give up on breaking through their conversation and set a pint down between them, figuring one of them would take it sooner or later. Their talk continued more quietly now that they were at a reasonable distance. However, they had spoken loud enough for the whole bar to hear, and not everyone could just let it slide.

* * *

Jim had jumped at the sudden loud hailing from right behind him, and he whipped around to see who it could possibly be. However, when the unfamiliar man took no notice of him, a strange, sick feeling welled up from the pit of his stomach. He followed the tall, multi-armed being's trajectory, landing his sights on _'No. No way.'_ And then the man's gaze caught on _his_ and something buzzed in his ears. Alex did not give him much time to think about it.

"Someone you know, Jim?" he asked, looking concerned as the blood drained from Jim's face.

Jim shook his head distractedly, breaking the eye contact. "It's a common name, Al." His voice came out too quiet. Oh, he _knew_. He _knew_ , but he refused to _believe_. His head was spinning. Unsteadily he pushed his chair back and stood, clattering the chair legs as he stumbled back.

"Jim? Are you okay?" Alex inquired insistently, ears flattening in alarm. Jim nodded uncertainly, pushing the chair back in to the table as unobtrusively as he could.

"I've gotta go. I'll see you around." He left the bar in a daze. Jim had never told Alex, or indeed any of his friends, about his father. And there was no way he could tell Alex _now_ , with the man sitting right there, talking to one of his mates like he didn't just round off another year pretending his family didn't matter...

Out of the danger zone and into the clean air, Jim took stock of the situation. For the first time in eight years, he had seen his father. _Right there_. He abruptly stopped walking and craned his head around in the direction of the bar. A mix of emotions ran through him – anger, fear, remorse, outrage, _relief_ , even – taking turns leading the pack.

Thoughts of what he would do should he ever see his father again had crossed his mind much less frequently since Treasure Planet. Occasionally something would jog his memory during his enrollment at the Academy and he would consider the question again, but it rarely demanded his attentions for more than a minute. Subconsciously he had concluded that he would walk away, as he had just done now. However, with the very poignant knowledge that he and his father were actually within walking distance of each other... saying was indeed very different from doing.

Jim thrust his hands into his pockets and walked on. Whatever Leland might have to say, if he even _had_ anything to say, Jim didn't want to hear it. He didn't need his "real" father anymore. Silver was his father now; the old cyborg had been more to him in just a few short months than what Leland had been in ten years. That was that.

He made it back to the docking bay with less than twenty minutes left before he had to be on board. Feeling very impatient, he sat on one of the benches outside a sweetshop and leaned against the walls to observe the activities of other travelers. Men, women, families of all sizes, bustling to and fro to find their ferries or a good restaurant to refresh themselves. His fingers clenched and unclenched on his knees and the back of his neck itched. Jim knew his agitation came from wanting to avoid his father for the rest of his time on the planet. He begged to whatever was listening that the man wouldn't try to follow him.

It did not take long for him to spot that certain figure making its steady way towards him. He _did_ follow him-- But why would his father want anything to do with him _now_ , after so many years? Leland had never paid a speck of actual attention to his son at the best of times. Yet, as the man grew closer, it was ever more clear that he was walking straight towards Jim. Several courses of action passed through the young man's head, and he eventually decided to plead indifference, not saying anything until Leland did. The man knew Jim had seen him. It would be too obvious if Jim got up and left now. He crossed his arms and lifted one leg over the other, watching his father's progress from the corner of his eye while staring straight ahead.

* * *

Leland had seen the boy leave after Thomas greeted him with such gusto. He had seen the incredulous, betrayed look on his face before he fled the bar. Those eyes were too round, and his nose looked too much like Sarah's... The man had bid Thomas a pleasant day, covered his tab, and exited the bar himself, scanning the crowds for the lad he dared suspect to be his son. Although there was that snag with his apparently attending the Interstellar Academy, all the other facts pointed to one conclusion. In spite of himself, all he'd done, something nagged at him. Leland had to know if it was really his son.

He spotted the young man sitting on a bench, to all appearances only passing time until his ferry was due to take off. Leland stopped several feet away from him, suddenly uncertain of what to do. He stayed standing there, under the pretext of examining what the sweetshop had to offer.

* * *

Jim watched his father standing there, trying not to look conspicuous. _Typical_ , he couldn't help thinking. Now that he was able to get a decent look at the older man, he wasn't very impressed. Leland's clothes were clean, but not new or expensive. He looked tired, world-weary. Jim had never quite worked out for himself exactly why his father might have left, but if it was to have more money for his own use, that plan had certainly failed. Feeling a little bit smug, Jim nonchalantly shrugged to himself, waiting for Leland to say something. When he didn't, he gave a small, resigned sigh. Clearly, _somebody_ needed to speak.

"Fallen on hard times, Dad?" he said matter-of-factly, like there had been no hard feelings at all anywhere in the past eight years. It felt so peculiar to him, to be saying "Dad" again after such a long time. It had always been "my father" whenever the topic came up as it so rarely did. The man paused, came out of his guise as the average unseen patron of Lomnus, and acknowledged his son.

"I suppose I did, Jimmy." It was a statement, said carelessly. Jim stiffened, then breathed it out. Leland noticed. "Well, I guess you're 'Jim,' now, huh?" He'd overheard the felinid in the bar. His son made no comment, no gesture. Leland sighed, and thumbed a worn corner of his jacket. He was well aware of his situation. No need to question another's frank opinion on it. He moved closer until he stood an arm's length away from the lip of the bench seat. Still Jim made no move to encourage or oppose, and they simply stared at each other as the silence stretched between them. The port crowds no longer existed. Leland briefly flicked a hand toward his son. "You're a student at the Interstellar Academy, then?"

"I just graduated yesterday, actually," Jim replied, his expression and tone unchanging. Silence again.

"How's Sarah?"

"Mom's fine,thank you." There was a distinct bitterness in the young man's voice now. A miniscule twinge of guilt tugged at Leland but he quickly disposed of it. It was easy now, after eight years. Carefully he pondered what he would say next. Jim was clearly on the defensive; unfortunately, that was to be expected. But for what he hoped to accomplish, the last thing that man wanted was for his son to be angry. "Dad, why did you leave?"

Leland looked squarely at Jim, noting his interrogating frown. At a loss for an immediate response, the man sat on the end of the bench. There was no movement or sound of protest from Jim. Leland placed his fingertips together, searching his mind for a reasonable answer. All alibis he could come up with were just as bad, if not worse than the truth. One could always plead ignorance...

"I'm not sure I remember, son," he said, looking back at Jim. The boy raised an incredulous eyebrow. He did not buy it. The fact was that Leland knew and remembered exactly why he had left his little family behind. To be flat honest, by that time he found that he just didn't care anymore. He was a rolling stone, he would have said, and not fond of long-term commitments. When the gathering moss became too much, Leland decided it was high time he got rid of it. So he left. And he found himself unable to tell this to his son.

Jim was still staring at him; his frown had deepened in his father's lack of a real answer. The older man remained silent. Neither expression could quite be read. "I think you do remember," Jim said quietly. "I think you do remember why you left, and you're ashamed of it."

"Jim – "

"Why are you even here, talking to me, anyway?" His voice was rising; though he was not on his feet yet, his posture on the bench was stronger, more commanding, than before. It took Leland a bit by surprise.

"Can a father not speak to his only son?" Leland's voice grew louder, too. Jim actually got to his feet now with well-suppressed rage.

"So I'm your son again? Why? Because it turns out I'm worth it?" He paused in his tirade to fight the sudden swirl of emotions that flooded through him once the question left his mouth. Fury, shock, disappointment, even a touch of hysteria. Pacing in front of the bench a little helped to at least partially quell them, sort them out. But something kept digging into him, a sick feeling in his stomach. A dormant realization suddenly shrieking its way awake within him. Leland interrupted his thoughts.

"You were always worth it, Jim, and I'm sorry I never saw that." That stopped Jim cold. He turned a skeptical eye on his father.

"How much?" he said simply. Leland hesitated. "How much?" Jim repeated with more force, turning fully towards the older man now. There was still no reply. "How much am I worth to you now?"

 _He knew_. Leland felt the blood drain from his face. His son knew what his intentions were; there was no other way to explain it. He too stood up, now. Though many years ago this might have intimidated Jim, Leland was now only taller by inches. "Jim, please understand; that was not what I mean." The lad crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Leland rubbed the back of his neck, at a loss. Jim sighed in disgust and walked away. In spite of what had just happened, Leland trailed behind him. "Won't you listen to me?"

Jim halted. Without turning, he spoke, "Start talking.

Leland gave a resigned sigh. "It was wrong of me to leave you and your mother behind."

"Really?" Sarcasm dripped from his tone.

"I can make it up to you."

"How?" The mockery landed heavily.

"I'll be a better father this time."

"Oh, like I always tried to be a better son for you?" Jim wheeled around to look his father square in the eye, defiance burning in him. "Dad, all I ever wanted was for your approval. Just once, for something more than a pat on the head or a passing glance. 'I'm proud of you, Jimmy.' 'Good job, son.' Was that too much to ask from a father?" Through some miracle he had controlled his voice, but he seethed as he let it all sink in. Without allowing a rebuke, he continued, "You don't even know what's happened since you left. How about everything Mom and I had falling apart by the day? She's trying to keep the Inn afloat, while it's all anyone can do to keep me out of trouble. Then what? I find the map to Treasure Planet, and it's only at the end of the voyage when I've saved the ship and crew from total destruction that I have even a remote chance of attending the Interstellar Academy, because the finest captain in the whole Etherium put in a good word for me!"

Leland tried to interject at this point, but Jim would not allow it.

"Now here I am, graduated from the most elite school of the elite, and all of a sudden you show up and want to be in my life again. Just how am I supposed to react to that, Dad?" Desperate confusion had found its way into Jim's voice, muscling in to walk alongside his wrath. Suddenly he was that bewildered little boy on the docks, trying to get his daddy to look back as his boat disappeared into the cold sunrise. The overwhelming helplessness he'd felt then came back to him now and he turned away again furiously, brushing his sleeve across his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry, not in front of his father. Indignantly he set his mouth tight and stared at a little white stone on the ground, focusing on that only while his breathing settled again. His composure came back to him quickly and he faced Leland again.

Leland had borne Jim's outburst with thinning patience, barely reacting to the very apparent passion at it its end. Though the guilt had managed to resurface and grow a little stronger, it was still not enough to turn his head. "Treasure Planet," he said deadpan, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes," Jim muttered, relaxing his arms. "It's gone, now; Captain Flint booby-trapped it to explode within minutes of anyone locating his treasure."

"Did you get any of it?"

"We used the money from what we managed to get to rebuild the Inn. There isn't any more."

"I see." A touch of disappointment afflicted Leland's voice, and Jim's original skepticism returned.

"So why _are_ you here, Dad? Are you going to answer that for me?" All of his anger had been spent. Now he just wanted to _understand_. He folded his arms over his chest again and glanced at the clock. Soon, now, he would have to board the ferry. His father did not answer his question at first, merely shrugging.

"You were always a bright kid, Jim. I think you've figured it out already." Well, at least the man had paid enough attention to his son to have picked up on _that_. However, it did not improve Jim's opinion. He raised an eyebrow and smirked wryly, making a short sound that could have been a scoff. Shaking his head, he turned on his heel and made his way for the ferry that would take him home. He just caught the last words he ever heard his father say.

"I know I wasn't there for any of it; but I'm proud of you, son." Jim paused and looked back over his shoulder. Leland's voice was pure, but his eyes betrayed him. That was merely a last ditch attempt to make peace.

"I don't need your approval anymore. We don't need you. Good-bye, Leland." He never looked back as he approached the ramp onto the ferry, never searched the crowded port town for a glimpse of Leland once he'd taken a seat. A comforting sense of self-fulfillment came over him, and he was content to sit quietly while he waited for the ferry to finally take off. He had said all that he ever had to say. There was nothing else that needed to be done.

* * *

_Hours later, Jim arrived at the Montressor spaceport. Anticipation leapt into his throat while he rode yet another ferry that would bring him finally home. On the way he changed into the rest of his formal uniform, feeling that his mother would expect nothing less from her new young graduate. When he set foot back on his home planet, two constables awaited him to escort him back to the Benbow Inn. As they approached the Inn, Jim could faintly hear music and chatter coming from within, and he smiled. Sarah was throwing a graduation party for him after all._

_The robotic policemen entered first, eliciting gasps from the guests. However, when the rolled aside to place Jim in clear view, the gathered burst into cheers and applause. Morph expressed his glee by changing into a medal, and pinning himself onto Jim's jacket. Through the wall of guests, Jim caught sight of his mother's face, and that same glowing smile from his imagination at the ceremony last night. Genuinely proud of her son._

_After a few minutes of socializing, Mrs. Dunwiddy put her many arms to use playing a well-known dance to liven up the crowd. Jim and his mother took the first dance through, and everyone else joined in, including BEN. Amidst all the clapping and laughter, bodies shuffling with pieces of cake and congratulations for everything, the enormity of what was going on finally hit him. The music and voices formed a happy background murmur as Jim became lost in his thoughts. For the first time in a long time, he was truly content._

_**"What do you see off that bow of yours?"** _

_Jim glanced out a nearby window, up to the clouded Etherium skies. He smiled to himself._

_**"A future."** _

_He could have sworn, that in a mass of clouds he saw the face of John Silver. He wore his crooked grin, a bright start the light of his cyborg eye. A wisp of cloud passed and Silver seemed to wink at his old cabin boy, before the image disappeared from all but Jim's memory. As the cloud blew away in the Etherial wind, Jim Hawkins could almost hear the old cyborg's voice affirming his powerful faith in the boy, like he was standing right next to him._

_**"Look at yeh, glowin' like a solar fire. You're somethin' special, Jim. Yeh're gonna rattle the stars, yeh are."** _

_~Fin~_


End file.
